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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28254936">Note from the Inquisitorial Archives #4</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/professorplum221/pseuds/professorplum221'>professorplum221</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Notes from the Inquisitorial Archives [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Warhammer 40.000, Warhammer 40k (Novels) - Various Authors</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Blindfolds, F/M, Light BDSM, Light Bondage, Non-Explicit Sex, Romance</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 19:27:32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,519</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28254936</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/professorplum221/pseuds/professorplum221</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Ciaphas Cain reflects on the early days of his relationship with Amberley Vail</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ciaphas Cain/Amberley Vail</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Notes from the Inquisitorial Archives [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2043088</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Note from the Inquisitorial Archives #4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>Archival note: The pages containing this particular handwritten excerpt from Commissar Cain’s unpublished memoirs appear to have been subjected to a substantially higher amount of wear and tear than most other documents from the same collection. Considering the nature of their content, one might imagine that they held a particular personal significance to Inquisitor Vail, and that despite the absence of any of her typical annotations, the damage may have possibly been caused by repeated rereading over the course of several years. Access to the physical copy, which I have here reproduced digitally, is therefore available only to the most qualified of researchers, upon special request.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>- Underscribe P. Plumb, 136.M42</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Perhaps I’m growing sentimental in my old age, but when I sat down to consider which part of my long and outlandish life story to write about next, it occurred to me to return once more to the beginnings of one of the happiest parts of it—my relationship with Inquisitor Amberley Vail. I believe I’ve already described my—in retrospect, rather embarrassing—first meeting with her on Gravalax, and our subsequent near-death experience in the genestealer-infested undercity, but I don’t think I’ve ever reflected on the following days, when the necessity of tying up the loose ends of her investigation gave us the opportunity to get more closely acquainted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’ll eventually read this, I suppose—she’ll likely be one of very few people who do—and so I hope that she’ll forgive my indulgence in setting some events of a deeply personal nature down to paper, and not take too much umbrage at the inevitable minor disagreements she may have with some of the details of my account.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If I remember correctly, she was the one who initiated things between us, asking me in a moment of spare time if I'd like to go back to her hotel room with her as if it was the most casual question in the world. I had been trying to come up with a more subtle way to make the same proposal, of course, so I was only too happy to oblige, and we took full advantage of the remaining time we had together by spending the next few days occupied with very little else besides each other.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With most of the women I had been with before Amberley—and I'll admit there were quite a few—I was accustomed to the expectation that I would most likely be the more dominant partner. A few old flames of mine did eventually become much more aggressive once I got to know them, and I certainly appreciated that. But for the most part, my understanding of intimate relationships was one in which I had a specific role to play—the same role of a powerful, confident man that I was used to feigning in my day-to-day life as well. This isn't to say that I didn't enjoy that sometimes, but I had also never really questioned it, until Amberley appeared in my life and introduced me to quite the pleasing alternative.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You can relax, you know," she said to me one night, just after I had pushed her down onto the bed with perhaps more roughness than was strictly necessary. A few earlier encounters had given us a bit of time to familiarize ourselves with each other by this point, so I expect she was reacting not only to the current circumstances, but also to the general impression she had developed of me and my approach to our relationship thus far.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I am relaxed," I replied, my lips on her collarbone as I slipped one of the straps of her dress off her shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No you're not."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a maneuver I imagine she had perfected through rigorous combat training, she suddenly wrapped her legs around me and flipped us both over, placing herself on top and leaving me equal parts stunned, impressed, and aroused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You're still trying to be an authority," she told me—and I was in no state to protest. "Probably because you're a man, and because of this."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She ran her fingers down the front of my partially unbuttoned uniform before letting them rest on the scarlet sash around my waist. Then, with a look of determination, she began to untie it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"That's an important symbol of my office," I needlessly explained as some small amount of rationality began to return to my mind. This may have in fact been the first time that Amberley had placed her hands on said important symbol, as I tended to have a habit of removing it myself at the commencement of any intimate proceedings, and folding it up somewhere safe before continuing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I know. That's sort of the point." She smirked. "I know what I'm doing; I'm not going to damage it. Will you let me try something I think you'll like?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Alright. But be careful with it." I probably wouldn't have said the same to anyone else, but as in all things, Amberley was different—not to mention that our position, with her body pressed against mine, generally put me in a willing mood to go along with whatever she had in mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I arched my back to allow her to slip the now-untied sash out from underneath me, and she lifted it up to my face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hands above your head, please," she instructed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once I complied, she affixed the sash over my eyes, tying it once behind my head before using the remaining fabric to bind my wrists together. As anxious as I was to avoid any damage to it, I certainly wasn't going to struggle—but I expect that if I had, I would have discovered the knots to be quite secure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"How's that?" she asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"A bit strange," I admitted. "But I'll try it."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Good."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Amberley leaned down and kissed me, her long hair tumbling across my face. I tried to follow her advice to relax, closing my already covered eyes and taking a deep breath as she repositioned herself to continue with her plans for me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She finished undressing me—as much as was possible anyway, under the circumstances—slowly, the feeling of her fingers lingering on my skin heightened by the loss of one of my other senses. Next came her lips and tongue, joining her hands in dancing across different parts of my body, sometimes surprising me due to the lack of visual cues to indicate which way she was headed. I began to appreciate the unfamiliar situation I was in, not only for its apparent ability to enhance my reaction to physical sensations, but also because for once, there was nothing for me to worry about. I didn’t feel any pressure to anticipate what she might want me to do, or to over-analyze any small details like where exactly I should put my hands—I couldn’t move them, anyway. All that was left was to let myself enjoy whatever she wanted to do to me—and there was certainly a lot to enjoy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a brief time, her welcome attentions to my body ceased, leaving me with a sense of building anticipation about what she might do next. I waited, my breath ragged, trusting that she wouldn’t leave me unattended to for long. And then, when she lowered herself on top of me and drew me inside her at last, I found myself letting out the kind of unrestrained moan that I would normally have tried to hold back out of fear of somehow sounding un-masculine—but her own response, both vocal and physical, clearly demonstrated that she was happy to hear it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"See?" she whispered as I felt one of her long nails drag across my chest. "You're much more relaxed now."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yes—yes, you were right—now please keep going." My words came out hurried and frantic, as tantalized as I was by her insistence on pausing to speak.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She responded with a mischievous chuckle, fortunately also taking my request into account at the same time, and bringing me an experience like no other I'd had before. My inability to see or touch her meant that all my focus was directed to our one point of connection—and to the pleasure that seemed to spread throughout my entire body with every movement of her hips. The last sensation I consciously remember feeling was her legs beginning to tremble against my sides, before I lost what little was left of my practiced self-control. I was barely aware of what I was saying by that point, but I’m sure she probably heard at least a few somewhat blasphemous expressions cross my lips in that final overwhelming moment of ecstasy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I never knew it could feel so good until I met her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This next part may sound naïve, considering how little we knew of each other at this early stage in our relationship. But afterward, when she finally lifted the improvised blindfold from my eyes and let me see her again—her hair tousled and smiling face flushed in the dim evening light—I think that might have been the moment I fell in love.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I had a plan for a different, longer thing that I was going to make part 4 of this series, but then I woke up this morning with this idea fully-formed, so enjoy!</p><p>Happy holidays to whatever small audience I have on here, you're all great, please feel free to comment and/or follow me at the-unsleeping-bi.tumblr.com if you want to talk about Ciaphas Cain</p></blockquote></div></div>
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